


Divinity of Hell

by Greenie (Amber)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Challenge Response, Character Study, Community: pornish_pixies, M/M, Marauders' Era, Masturbation, Pining, Shakespeare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-19
Updated: 2005-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-03 02:41:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amber/pseuds/Greenie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Pettigrew as Othello's Iago. | "Nothing.  Just that— oh, it doesn't matter."  He shrugs.  "Sirius and Lily have been friends for a very long time, after all."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Divinity of Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Pornish_Pixies Shakespearian challenge, based around the play Othello. Many thanks to Alison and Losselen for the beta.

_But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve   
For daws to peck at: I am not what I am. _  
(Othello, Act I scene i)

"You'll be at the wedding, right?"

"Of course." Peter smiles one of his beatific smiles. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

"You're a good man Pete."

A good man, yes. But not the best man; that position is reserved for Sirius.  
Peter Pettigrew is inclined to dream.

He dreams of grabbing James while everyone is watching. Of pushing his robes out of the way. Of fucking him until his friend's cock is bruised from being slammed against the wall.

He dreams of creeping into James's bed at night while he is sleeping. Of taking him inch by painstaking inch. Of one white-knuckled hand over his mouth in case he awakes.

He dreams of rain-spattered kisses on the Quidditch pitch. Of rough hand jobs in an empty sky. Of pushing James from his broom even as they both come.

Once he woke in History of Magic with his own cock pulsing, and when he looked across at James looking across at Lily his heart beat hatred.  
"How is it that," he asks Snape in a bar just off Diagon Alley, "I can worship the ground he walks on for seven years and the bastard almost forgets to give me an invitation to his wedding?"

"You could do better," Snape says.

Peter laughs disbelievingly. "Of course I could do better. D'you think I want to hang around him forever? He treats me like— like a House Elf, or worse."

"Now you know how _I_ feel." Snape's face is twisted into bitterness. "But why you would want to be present as that bastard is wedded to a Mudblood escapes me."

Mudblood. A word of indoctrination, but unlike Sirius, Peter cannot escape his family and his duties. "Yeah," he says, and then again: "Yeah." The truth is, he is bitter that James is marrying at all.

"You should come, you know," Peter says conversationally when they have downed a few more drinks in silence or idle talk.

"Come where?"

"The wedding."

Snape snorts. "No."

"You know, Lily was going to invite you but James convinced her not to." Lily had never planned any such thing. Desperation flickers promisingly in dark eyes.

"I don't care what Evans wants," Snape lies.

"Oh, come on. It'd piss James right off."

"You're so crass," Snape sighs, but he takes the address from Peter when he offers it.  
"Oh god, I'm so sorry." Peter wants to look away, but he can't, the soot in his eyes makes him blink, tearing up a little bit.

"I just wanted to — had the money — James' present —"

He turns, puts the handful of Galleons on the mantel and escapes.

His voice wavers on 'Pettigrew house' and he ends up next door. "Very sorry! Wrong Floo stop— honestly, even brooms are safer now days. Er, no, thankyou, I just ate..."

In his room he sits on his bed and curls a hand into his robes, rubbing tentatively at first and then harder. The image is burned into his eyes; Remus sprawled below Sirius on the sofa of his tiny apartment, legs spread wide as Sirius sucked his cock.

As he clenches his own cock, stopping to spit into his hand in a well-practised routine, he pretends he is actually Sirius wanking himself. His is mouth around Remus' — no, James's thick cock, tongue tracing over the vein, learning every ridge with reverence.

He pretends he has his fingers in James' arse, scissoring wider and wider to make the other boy moan, expertly searching for the spot that will make him scream. Even as he stops licking around the foreskin and takes him in deeply, he hits it and feels James bucking under him.

He pretends he is tonguing James' balls, taking them into his mouth and holding them there, teeth hovering millimetres from the sac as he adds another finger, and another. James' keens vocalise his frustration as he tries to keep his hips still.

He pretends he is flipping James over, pulling out his fingers to moans of slight distress which make Peter tingle, down in the depths of his soul, because now he's the one making James want him and it serves the bastard right, doesn't it, but before he can replace them with his cock the white heat splattering his fingers jerks him back to reality.

He sits in the twilight of his bedroom, the bedroom he's been living in for the past eighteen years, and wipes his sticky fingers on the bed sheets. In one of the photos on his dressing table, Sirius is laughing at him, miming giving a blowjob with tongue literally in cheek.

In a fit of frustration, Peter throws the picture against the wall.  
"Peter, look, we have to talk." Sirius is already drunk, his shirt-tails hanging out over his well cut suit.

"Not now," hisses Peter, motioning to something over Sirius's shoulder. "Look who just walked in the door."

"What the fuck is he doing here?" bellows Sirius. Snape has entered on the arm of Genevieve Parkinson.

Inwardly, Peter grins. "Lily must have asked Parkinson to come. They did prefect rounds together last year."

"Yeah, but Snape?" Sirius goes to brush hair from his eyes and finds nothing, still unused to his new haircut. "What's he doing with Parkinson, anyway? He's a fucking faggot."

"Don't be a hypocrite," says Peter.

Sirius actually has the grace to look ashamed. "Yeah. But. We're different. Moony and me..."

"Moony and I," corrects Remus, appearing out of nowhere, touching Sirius on the arm. "The ceremony is about to start. Have you got the rings?"

"Fuck, the rings," says Sirius. Remus smells the alcohol on his breath and rolls his eyes. "They're out on the bike. I'll go get 'em."

Peter watches as he pushes past Snape, who pushes him back. Sirius sneers something inaudible at Snape, who can clearly be heard to retort: "Your parents would be so disappointed."

"Fuck off!" shouts Sirius — not noticing that a couple of the adults turn to glare at him — and shoves Snape into the edge of a table. Snape goes for his wand but thinks better of it, and lands a right hook square on Sirius's nose.

"I've wanted to do that for a very long time."

Blood spurts and several people gasp out loud. Sirius is confused enough to try and staunch it with the tablecloth, sending glasses crashing into the floor. "You fucker," he's shouting nasally, scrabbling for his own wand in unfamiliar Muggle clothes. "You shirtlifting cunt! I'll fucking kill you."

Peter wonders if he should move to help, but Remus and James are already there.

"I think it's broken," Remus says.

"You idiot, Sirius," says James. There are circles under his eyes, Peter can see it even from this distance. Snape looks across at Peter. He looks back and makes an impatient motion.

"Come here just to ruin my fucking wedding, Snivellus?" says James, drawing his wand, but he's talking to air. Snape can take a hint.

The blue hum of healing magic whispers across Peter's skin as an elderly witch tends to Sirius's nose. James is utterly disgusted.

"I don't care if he just came to pick a fight, why'd you have to let him start one, Pads!? Honestly, you're lucky Magnolia's here or we'd have a best man with a broken nose in all the fucking photos, and wouldn't that be a sight?" Whipped, thinks Peter. Chickenpecked, through and through.

"Don't try to say anything, dearie," says Magnolia to a spluttering Sirius, and runs her wand down his nose again.  
The ceremony is picture perfect, though. Dumbledore is chanting slowly over the couple's locked hands, the power emanating from him obvious even to the Muggles. The Evans' look quite stunned at the blatant display of magic.

The only other person not smiling is Peter.

He's trying to place a flash of déjà vu — and of course, it hits him right between the eyes as a camera's turned his way, so in the official photographs he looks like he's gobsmacked by the entire proceedings.

He's never been to a wizardly wedding before, since he's never been invited, but it reminds him of when he took the Dark Mark. Voldemort and he had stood in much the same way, as circles of Death Eaters chanted around them.

They had been bonded. Just as Lily and James, his James, were being bonded now. Until death do them apart.

Peter has to force himself to unclench his fists and smile when the camera comes around again.  
"Have you seen Sirius at all?" James looks different with his glasses off and his hair slicked down. Lily has been introducing him to gel and contacts, it seems. Peter hates everything that's changing and moving away from the person James used to be before he became Head Boy (and worse: Lily Evans' Boyfriend.)

"He was right here, talking to me," says Lily who has been practically humming around on tippy-toes despite her protruding stomach and frilly dress. She kisses his cheek, but he is distracted.

"Talking to you? Why?" asks James.

"He was just apologising." James's mouth tightens. "Don't be an idiot, James, it was hardly his fault. I'll go find him for you."

"Of course, she would say that," says Peter. James squints at him.

"Whaddya mean?"

"Nothing. Just that— oh, it doesn't matter." He shrugs. "Sirius and Lily have been friends for a very long time, after all."

"Yeah…" says James. "Yeah, they have..."  
The flames of a fireplace are warm on Peter's cheeks. "I don't know, James. I mean, Sirius is a mate. He'd never do anything horrible to you, would he?"

"He started a fight at my wedding," points out James. "And now — what, you think he's stealing my wife?"

"I never said that!" Peter protests. "Sirius is too noble to do anything of the sort."

"Yeah, Noble and Most Ancient," says James. Neither of them laugh.

"Look, I'll ask him."

"Why would he tell you?"

"He couldn't not, really — you know Sirius, he's an open kind of guy. Can't keep a secret to save his life."

James makes a non-committal noise.

"You could watch through the mirrors, if you want. You do still have those?"

"Yeah. But if you don't want it to be noticeable, I won't be able to hear anything much."

"It's fine. I'm sure his reaction will tell you everything you want to know."

Peter puts out the fire and breathes hatred quietly to himself for a while in the darkness of his own living room, until his mother shuffles past and asks: "Didn't they bother to teach you Lumos in Hogwarts? Knew I should have sent you to Durmstrang, better connections there. Honestly, Peter; you'll ruin your eyes."  
Peter gives a quick thumbs up to the mirror propped on the table on the other side of the room. His reflection swims out of view, and a grinning James gives him the thumbs up back, hardening Peter's resolve.

"Peter!" says Sirius in surprise. "What're you doing here?"

"I just Flooed by. You said, you said at the wedding that... er. You wanted to talk to me?"

"I do." Sirius immediately looks guilty, nods his head vigorously. "Yeah, I do."

"What about? Um. Umumum. What I walked in on? It was- was nothing — really, I understand Sirius. You and Moony get up to much of that?"

A grin is slowly making its way across Sirius's face, lurking mischievously in the corner of his mouth. "On occasion," he says with the experienced air he used to put on when they were all crouched, human, in the Shrieking Shack, huddling around and talking about girls.

"Do you really like him?"

"I s'pose. We're all mates, aren't we?"

"Yeah, but you're not fucking me up the arse." He says it lightly.

"Haven't you ever done something just because you could?" Sirius shrugs. "I mean, it's everything I ever wanted. All through Hogwarts. And I never thought, y'know? I mean, we were really sodding drunk and I took a chance. Because I could. I wanted to."

"What's he like then?"

"What?"

"Oh, come on Sirius, you know I won't tell." Peter shrugs. "We're mates, yeah? So if you need someone to talk to, now I'm here. I mean, you can't exactly tell James."

Sirius's grin is back in full force, like a panting dog. "He's brilliant. You walked in on a tame bit. You'd reckon he's been browsing the Kama Sutra. I mean, sure it was all awkward at first, but now? 'S like magic." He winks.  
Magic shifts like loose stone under their feet. Peter is in the thick of things — here! with the Prewetts as they plan a resistance then there! with Severus flying over Oxfordshire too terrified to look down and see the world spinning beneath them. ("I hate flying." "You hate a lot of things.")

"I'm not sure I saw correctly," he tells James, "But I could have sworn I saw Sirius playing with the Snitch you gave Lily."

"The bastard!" James eyes are filled with hurt. Peter can clearly see him imagining Lily as she fucked Sirius, moving slowly over his body. He wonders if James ever puts himself in her place. "That was my father's, and my father's father's..."

He had given it to her on the evening of their first date, and it had fluttered amidst the cupids raining confetti on their meal. "You're such a Quidditch fanatic, James," she had said, half-exasperated.

"It could have been any Snitch." Peter's arm is reassuring and calm on his shoulder. A thrill of anticipation runs through him — it's been years since he was allowed to touch James so casually. "I didn't want to tell you..."

"You are to tell me everything. Everything, you hear me, Peter?" James's eyes are frantic. "We need to get away. Lily and me. I've got to be responsible now; I'm a father. Voldemort's thwarting our every move and who the fuck knows why-"

"Talk to Dumbledore," says Peter.  
Dumbledore explains the Fidelius Charm — the idea that one man can hold another's entire existence within his head and _no-one would know about it_.

"You're the obvious choice," Peter tells Sirius.

This seems to make him stop, think, realise: "Too obvious."

Peter makes the little furrow in his brow that means and has always meant 'I don't get it.' "What?"

"Too obvious," Sirius says again. "It should be you. No-one would suspect."

Peter bites back a sarcastic comment — he's been hanging around Snape too long — and later tells James, "Sirius wants to be your Secret Keeper."

"What, so he can pop 'round and fuck my wife while my kid looks on? No thanks."

"What do you mean, Prongs? You have to have a Secret Keeper!"

"It's exactly as you said. He can't keep a secret to save his life. So it'll be you. You're my right-hand man, Wormtail. Second only to the best."

And he's like the old James again. Peter has waited through infinity to hear those words and yet the hatred still festers like an open wound within him. "Second only to the best," he echoes, and wonders.  
He goes out and gets laid that night, some nameless, faceless stranger sliding against him in a dark corner. Hair is too long, too straight, and too neat, so Peter doesn't run his hands through it while he enjoys the suction on his cock. He doesn't even bother to find out if he's fucking a man.  
The ceremony is quick. James grips Lily's hand as though it were something he can hardly bear to touch. The baby giggles and kicks its legs. Peter has done his very best not to learn its name, but he can't help it because it haunts him — Harry; Harry; Harry.

The magic practically lifts him off his feet, and he swears in blood he swears in tongues he swears on his wand to keep the Potters safe.

Nobody notices the little family as they stroll the village — nobody gives them a second glance. James Potter has murdered his wife and murdered his child and murdered himself for jealousy.

He won't realise until it's too late.  
A crowded Muggle street. The air is muggy and stifling — Peter doesn't move to wipe away the sweat that's trickling down to the end of his nose, nor does he blink or look away from the desperate, angry, demanding eyes.

"Why?"

Peter shrugs, clutching his wand behind his back. "Because I could."

And then he acts his part one final time and Sirius goes laughing to his doom.


End file.
